Kitty's War

by Barbara Whitaker

  Suzanne hadn’t changed. She still saw Katherine as the little sister who needed to be told what to do and how to do it. Maybe someday both Suzanne and their mother would accept that Katherine had grown up, that she had a mind of her own.

  At the sound of an engine, Katherine ran to the doorway. The sheriff’s deputy parked behind the doctor’s car and set out across the dune to investigate. A few minutes later an ambulance appeared. Two men got out and hiked toward the waves. She strained to see, but they disappeared from view.

  Filled with anxiety, she paced the floor and waited, wondering if the man would be okay.

  Suddenly remembering Sam’s other order, she picked up the telephone receiver again and asked for the number written in bold letters across the top margin of the telephone book. She left the message for Sam’s boss and then quickly hung up, anxious to get off before missing something outside.

  An eternity passed before the two men trudged across the dunes carrying the mysterious man on a stretcher. Her heart raced at the chance to see him again. She ran out to the road.

  Just as she opened the gate, he turned his head in her direction. For a moment, before the men loaded him into the ambulance, their gazes met. He smiled, that same little boy smile, and that same warm glow filled her insides. The world stopped spinning. It was as if they were alone, the only two people on the planet.

  Then, the spell snapped.

  He disappeared into the ambulance. Within minutes they were gone—the mysterious man, the doctor, the deputy, and the ambulance boys, all gone. The beach stretched out beyond the dunes, peaceful and deserted.

  She followed Sam and Suzanne back to the porch. Her shoulders slumped. A sense of loss engulfed her.

  “Will he be okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Doc seems to think so. Exposure mostly.” Sam deposited the bucket by the door.

  “Where did he come from?”

  “Don’t know. Probably a ship went down out there somewhere. They’ll find out what happened.” Impatience laced his words. “I gotta get to work.”

  Katherine grabbed his arm, desperate to know more. “What was his name?”

  Sam frowned and pulled free. “I don’t know. And, frankly, I don’t care. He caused enough trouble for one day.” He shifted his attention to Suzanne and planted a quick kiss on her cheek before turning toward his car.

  The baby wailed, demanding someone’s attention.

  “You better go up and take care of little Sammy. And get out of those wet clothes.” Suzanne smirked before thrusting an armload of dirty blankets at Katherine. “Good thing you’re doing laundry today.”

  Katherine pushed through the door and dumped the blankets near the foot of the stairs. She climbed to the second floor, back to the same, boring drudgery.

  Yet, today had been the most exciting day of her entire life. The mysterious man might be gone, but she would never be the same. And she would never forget him.

  ****

  His grandmother promised him that angels would watch over him, but he didn’t believe her. Yet he still could see the angel with the golden halo who pulled him from the sea. After days adrift, alone and exhausted, he’d given up. Until she appeared and told him he was safe.

  Grandmama had been right, after all, when she said he only had to believe and the angel would come.

  He drifted off again, knowing he would live, thanks to his guardian angel.

  Chapter Two

  March 1944

  It’s all part of the adventure.

  Corporal Katherine Ilene Greenlee had reminded herself all the way across the Atlantic. The thrill of exciting voyages to exotic locations had spurred her to volunteer for overseas duty. After fourteen days on a rolling ship with her stomach churning like the waves in a storm, she wasn’t so sure about her decision.

  She stumbled onto the gangplank. The heavy duffle bag, balanced precariously on her shoulder, toppled forward and bumped the girl in front of her. One hand went instinctively to her head to keep the steel helmet from falling as she regained her equilibrium.

  “Watch it,” the girl complained.

  Katherine drew a deep, fortifying breath and straightened under the weight of the bag plus all her other gear. She held tighter, determined to carry it all despite her screaming muscles and roiling stomach.

  If she had learned anything in this woman’s army, it was to carry her own load and not ask for help. There had been times when she hadn’t thought she was strong enough to make the grade, but stubborn determination kept her going. She had to prove to herself and everyone else that she could do it.

  By rights she shouldn’t be here at all, shouldn’t even be in the Women’s Army Corps. No one knew the truth, no one except her brother, who wouldn’t dare tell, and her father, who’d been so certain she’d fail that he’d let her go without a word of objection.

  Her feet finally landed on the dock, but she couldn’t stop and celebrate her arrival in England. Instead she trudged along behind another WAC until the sergeant pointed her to a forming line. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she reached the end of the row and manhandled her duffle bag to the ground in front of her. For a second she thought she would fall on top of it. Somehow she managed to stay on her feet.

  Madge strode by as if she carried a bag of feathers and flashed a mischievous grin. The girl’s hourglass figure disguised her underlying strength and stamina. Even with the Army’s strenuous exercise program, Katherine could never match her friend’s physical abilities or her positive, unflappable attitude. The rough voyage hadn’t fazed Madge a bit.

  Someone elbowed Katherine. She cut her eyes around and saw Sally, grinning ear to ear.

  “We made it,” Sally announced. “Jolly old England. Can’t wait to write my Bill and tell him.”

  Katherine nodded. She didn’t answer because she didn’t want to get in trouble for chit-chatting in formation.

  “You gonna look up your brother? He shouldn’t be too hard to find. England’s not that big.”

  “Once we get settled,” Katherine muttered, glancing around for the sergeant. “Better hold it down.”

  She wished she had someone like Sally’s Bill to write to, someone she could share her innermost thoughts with. Her brother’s letters from Algiers and Sicily had been fascinating, but that wasn’t the same as corresponding with a boyfriend. The image of blue eyes and a little boy smile filled her thoughts. That’s who she wanted—the man on the beach, her dream man. He’d be the perfect man who’d listen and smile and tell her he adored her.

  The sergeant’s shout interrupted Katherine’s daydream. She stood tall and forced her mind to focus on the orders and push the image from her brain. She’d long ago given up trying to find him, the real man anyway. Instead she’d settled for a daydream, an ideal, she knew deep down would never materialize.

  Once all the WACs were ashore, they marched to a loading area and climbed aboard waiting trucks. Packed like sardines, they had to pile their overstuffed duffle bags on their feet.

  Katherine squirmed to get more comfortable and bit her trembling lip.

  Madge leaned close. “You okay, kid?”

  She nodded, but it was a lie. She fought the panic, pushed it deep inside.

  “We’re here. We’ll be settled soon.” Madge tried to reassure her, and Katherine was grateful.

  “I know.” She placed her hands on her midsection. “I’ll feel better when my stomach calms down.” Truth was she didn’t like the in-between. She wanted to get there, wherever there was, and get to work. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the canvas cover, and willed herself not to cry. After all, she wasn’t alone. Madge was here with her. She’d made it so far. This was the biggest adventure of her life. She wouldn’t fall apart now.

  Madge patted her hand, and Katherine realized she had squeezed it into a tight fist. “Kitty. Relax. We’ll get there, in good time.”

  “Are you Kitty?” a girl across from them asked.

  Katherine’s eye
s flew open. She nodded and forced a smile. Madge had dubbed her Kitty when they’d first met. And Katherine had accepted it because she’d wanted so badly for Madge to be her friend.

  “I heard you were on the ship. You’re the one who got all the commendations back in Boston, aren’t you?” The girl stuck her hand across the mound of duffle bags. “I’m Dallas.”

  Kitty nodded, unsure whether the girl meant her comment as a compliment or a jibe. She leaned forward and politely shook the girl’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Remembering her manners, she pointed toward her friend. “This is Madge.”

  “Oh, I know Madge. Everybody knows her.” Dallas grinned, exposing a mouthful of crooked teeth. “Including all the soldiers on board.”

  “Not all of them,” Madge quipped. “I didn’t have time to meet them all.”

  Taking Madge’s advice, Kitty relaxed listening to the girls joke. She had to learn not to get upset when she faced the unknown.

  By the time they reached their destination—a sea of tents almost as vast as the ocean they crossed—she was numb from the hips down.

  Thus began long days of misery. The English spring meant rain, and rain meant mud, mildew, and short tempers. Eight women crammed into a tent strained the most patient among them. The tasteless food and hours of boredom didn’t help.

  If the Women’s Army Corps was so desperately needed for the war effort, then why were they sitting here waiting?

  To keep them busy, the brass ordered close order drill on the muddy field that passed for a parade ground. Meanwhile, the Army took its time sorting out the women’s assignments.

  Then one morning, out of the blue, a captain appeared bearing orders. Within hours Kitty’s company boarded a train and rolled across the English countryside toward Ellingham, East Anglia, headquarters for the Second Combat Bombardment Wing of the U.S. Eighth Air Force.

  ****

  Second Lieutenant Ted Kruger watched out the side window with the same nervous tension he experienced on every mission. The waist gunner in the bomber flying beside and slightly above them waved. Their wing tips almost touched in the tight formation. One false move by an unsteady pilot could mean disaster. Ted waved back.

  Above he could see more bombers. Below landmarks caught his eye, a meandering river, a town. He didn’t like being at the bottom of the formation, but it beat being at the end. The “tail-end Charlie” position caught the worst of the fighter attacks.

  “Flack ahead.” The pilot’s ominous words made his stomach constrict into a knot.

  Ted’s attention shifted to just ahead of him where the Plexiglas nose surrounded the bombardier, McGill. Bursts of black smoke filled the sky ahead, 88’s, at their altitude, as thick as he’d seen over any target. His gut tightened even more.

  “Starting Initial Point,” the pilot announced. “McGill take over.”

  No dodging it now. The bombardier took the controls for the bomb run.

  Seconds ticked away. Ted’s gloved hand clenched the pencil. He forced himself to relax before he broke another one. He couldn’t plot their course on the map without a pencil.

  The aircraft reeled from explosions nearby. The bumpy ride made him think of an old truck driving at top speed over a rutted, muddy road in the middle of the night. Unable to dodge the holes, even though he knew they were filled with dynamite. Unable to stop. Just straight ahead until he blew up.

  Come on, Come on. Get it over with and get out of here.

  “Bombs away.” The beautiful, gorgeous words came through the intercom. The plane lurched upward at the loss of its heavy load. He let out a sigh.

  “I’ve got it,” Rollins announced. The pilot took back the controls and maneuvered away from the drop zone.

  Ted marked the spot on the map and started his calculations for the return leg.

  “Hang on. We’re in the middle of it,” the pilot warned only an instant before an explosion jarred through them. The plane bounced and shook.

  Then another, louder bang.

  Ted’s seat collapsed, tossing him to the floor. His head hit something.

  Blackness alternated with blurry, bright light.

  Fiery pain burned through his thigh. His hand searched for the wound. He gasped for air. His oxygen tube must have pulled loose.

  Someone hovered over him. “Kruger’s hit.” It was McGill’s voice. Clutching his tightening throat, Ted watched as Mac stuck the tube of a walk-around bottle into Ted’s mask.

  He sucked in the oxygen, grateful to be able to breathe again. He reached toward the pain to make sure his leg was still there.

  “Take care of him. We’re almost out of it.” Rollins’ voice resonated with authority, as if he could control the uncontrollable situation.

  Ted struggled to get up but couldn’t move. He was wedged in the narrow space, pinned by something. Or was he just too weak?

  He heard other voices, far away, like a dream.

  “Number three’s hit.”

  “Feathering three.”

  “Tony, start the put-put, or we won’t have power for the auxiliary equipment.”

  “Will do.”

  Within seconds, the roar of the small motor filled the fuselage. It muffled the sounds of the flack.

  After a long pause, the co-pilot’s calm words came through the wire. “Everybody check in.”

  He heard each voice, each name. His turn came. “Kruger.” He sounded funny, like a whisper. Had he even spoken? The others continued to report.

  “McGill, how’s Kruger?” the pilot asked.

  “He’s hit in the upper leg. He’s bleedin’ a lot, but I can’t tell how bad it is with his suit and all.”

  The flight engineer appeared in Ted’s line of sight. “Here, let’s get him where we can see it.” They pulled the broken seat out of the way. “Damn. Look at those holes.”

  Now able to move a little, Ted turned his head. Light shone through a cluster of holes right where he’d been sitting. One looked big enough to put his thumb through.

  McGill rolled him on his side, tore his pants leg open, and poked around. “Get some sulfa on it. Then we’ll try to slow down the bleeding.”

  “How bad?” Ted heard himself ask.

  “Not too bad. Just be still so you don’t bleed all over the place.”

  Ted didn’t believe him. He was weak and cold.

  “Almost got you in the butt. You’ll get plenty of kidding for that.”

  McGill was trying to cheer him up. Ted forced a smile. “They better not. I’ll get ’em back. You know me.” He grimaced in pain.

  “Fighters! One o’clock high.”

  The bombardier jumped up and headed for his seat in the nose. Machine gun bursts exploded from every position. The flight engineer finished wrapping Ted’s upper leg and propped it up to slow the bleeding. “Hang on,” he said, before returning to his gun.

  Ted closed his eyes. With one engine out, they couldn’t stay with the formation for long. And alone, they were dead ducks.

  The whole fuselage vibrated with the roar of engines and the staccato of machine gun fire.

  “The charts,” he murmured. “Need course. To get back.”

  “Don’t worry, Kruger.” Rollins’ steady voice boomed in his ear. “Our little friends are here. They’ll get us home.”

  Fighters. God bless ’em.

  Ted squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. The image of his angel came to him, the halo of wild hair glowing in the sunlight, her sweet smile. She’d been with him since that day he’d washed ashore. And she’d come back to keep him safe in the sky, just as she’d promised.

  His angel had saved him again.

  ****

  The roar of engines invaded Kitty’s fitful sleep. She rolled over, half-dreaming of the train that rumbled through her small hometown at two a.m. every morning. But the roar didn’t fade away. It continued, intensified. She sat up and oriented herself to the strange place, cold and damp and crude. As the cobwebs cleared from her b
rain, she remembered where she was. England. Air Force. Planes.

  She slipped her feet from under the blanket, pulled on her shoes and her heavy jacket, and made her way outside to the latrine. They had told her, when she had volunteered for overseas duty, that the accommodations wouldn’t be as good as they were in the states. Boy, was that an understatement. She had, at the least, expected indoor plumbing. Of course, technically the concrete block structure behind the row of Nissen huts was indoors. They just had to trudge outside through the mud and weather to get to it. Not much better than the tents. Would she ever get used to living like this?

  On her way back, she gazed up into the pale dawn. The roar from the bomber engines continued as silhouettes of planes rose into the sky, one after another, from the nearby airfield and disappeared into the clouds. Spellbound, she stood outside the hut’s door.

  Those planes are going out to drop bombs on the Germans. And I’m here in England, only a few miles away from German occupied Europe.

  The thought sent a thrill through her. She’d made it. And her brother was proud of her, even if the rest of her family frowned on her choices.

  Kawhammmmm! The sky exploded in a ball of fire. The ground rocked. The flimsy huts rattled. Her hands flew up to shield her ears from the loudest noise she’d ever heard.

  Flames boiled outward from the epicenter of the blast. A thick, black cloud rose upward as fiery debris scattered below.

  She stared in disbelief, shaking like a leaf, unable to move, unable to breathe.

  “What happened?” Girls pushed their way through the door of the Nissen hut.

  “Oh, God!” someone exclaimed.

  The flames died. Ominous, black smoke billowed against the faint dawn. Several smaller explosions followed, one after the other. Kitty jerked again with each one.

  Above the distant silhouettes of low buildings, flames glowed orange. Sirens screamed in the distance. She imagined the swirl of activity on the airfield following the crash.

  Whispering excitedly, her fellow WACs clustered in small groups in front of their primitive quarters.

  “I wonder what happened.” Madge eased closer, watching the flames die back.